Crossroads

Unfortunately, graduating from high school does not guarantee a fabulous summer full of checking off everything on your bucket list. For most, it involves the sleep we all lost during those weeks of hell by the name of finals and, even worse, IB and AP testing. For the lucky, summer consists of having a job and saving money for college life; for the luckier, a good chunk of time is spent with best friends. Friends that you know will be going off to another town, far away, where their lives will go on as lives seem to do, even though you gave no consent. But that's the one elephant in the room that has made it a point to move in... Under no circumstances do you start getting all blubbery about not seeing them every day, not having youth group or New G or the weird faces in the hallway in between class periods. Not until that very last moment can you get completely serious and hang on to memories of our past, because what's ahead is unknown and, let's just say it, really flipping terrifying.

My summer, it seems, is on the fast track to getting prescribed bipolar meds. There are long moments that stretch into days of being stuck inside an empty house with no job, no license, and no car, watching and re-watching Gilmore Girls, and eating microwaved lunches everyday at two in the afternoon, because I don't realize my internal clock hasn't been wound correctly since April. And then there are the sweet breaths of relief when there's reason enough to put on socially acceptable clothing, shut the door behind me, and laugh with people who honest to goodness like having me around. I need social interaction, and more so than creeping on people via Twitter or Facebook. I need face to face happenings, or else I'll go crazy of loneliness. 

I want this summer to matter. I want to check off insane boxes on my bucket list and be with my friends every possible minute. I want to stop dreaming, and make these things happen.